Left to Darkness
by Volcanic Lily
Summary: "She remembered how they left her in darkness... Cahills had been lying and cheating and stealing and sabotaging for centuries. And it would never change. Well, she was sick of it." How a brilliant girl with a promising future had her hand forced into getting mixed up with a "sociopathic, Barney-tattooed criminal" and the organization he belongs to. TNO spoilers, obviously.


**Author's Note: So, I know that everyone and their brother probably has their own theories by this point about Sinead, about how she first got involved with the Vespers, about how deeply involved she truly is now, whether she's still in it for her brothers' sake, like she believes, or if she's been more corrupted by the system than she'd like to think.**

**I started this months ago, before TNO, immediately after the Shatterproof mission officially revealed Sinead as the mole. I planned on making it a lot longer than this, but I decided to just tackle the topic of how Sinead got involved with the Vespers in the first place. I might tackle some of the other questions I posed in the paragraph above (like I really _need _to be starting any new projects that'll need updating), or maybe not. For now, I'll just mark this as "complete."**

She remembered how they left her in darkness.

She and her brothers had just gotten a lead on the first clue from Amy and Dan and were about to take off with the photo on Sinead's cell phone.

"W-w-wait!" Amy had stuttered pathetically. "Th-there's a man…."

"What man?" Sinead asked in suspicion. She had been taught all about Cahills and their tricks from a young age, as had Ted and Ned; even with all of that pitiful stammering and wide-eyed innocence, the Cahill orphans had to be up to something.

"He's been watching us! Following us!" Amy's younger brother had exclaimed. Dan's green eyes were wide, as if he truly was scared—that, or he was just a good actor. "It isn't safe to go out the main entrance."

She nearly rolled her eyes. How obvious could those two brats get? They were pleading with her not to exit through the main entrance; therefore, they must have been hiding something at the main entrance. Something clue-related, she was willing to bet.

"Concerned for our safety? That's very cute, Dan, but the thing is…" Sinead gave her brothers a sidelong smile, then leaned in to poke Dan in the ribs. "_I. Don't. Believe. You_."

Ned and Ted had laughed along with her, and together, they had sprinted away in the direction of the main exit.

That was the last time she saw her brothers completely intact.

Suddenly, there was an earth-shattering _BOOM_! The ground seemed to shake beneath Sinead's loafer-clad feet. She heard the shatter of glass and the sound of hundreds of books toppling off their shelves. She watched in slowly dawning horror as large chunks of the ceiling broke off and began plummeting to the ground… just a few feet away from her brothers.

"Ted! Ned!" she shouted, her voice much shriller than normal.

The last thing she remembered was charging at them, intent on shoving them out of harm's way. _Save my brothers. Save my brothers!_—the thought was running through her mind over and over again; it seemed to be the only thing she could think. She remembered her heart hammering in her chest, faster than it ever had before—being more terrified than she ever had before.

And then, something hard and heavy plowed into the back of her skull from above, and the entire world was plunged into darkness.

/

When she next opened her eyes, it was far too bright.

She was lying in a soft hospital bed that she was sure was meant to be comfortable, but the only thing that she could feel was raw agony coursing through her torso, spreading throughout her limbs. When she finally summoned up the strength and the nerve to look down, she found that her arms and legs were swathed in thick white bandages. Her ears were faintly ringing.

_What happened_? It took her foggy brain a moment to recall, and then, she began to burn, not with pain, but with rage.

Amy and Dan had set them up. By telling them, "It isn't safe to go out the main entrance," they had ensuredthat she and her brothers would do just that: they would head directly for the main doors, where they would set off the bomb. Sinead had underestimated those orphans—they had been able to trick her by _doubly _tricking her!

They had set her and her brothers up. To die.

Sinead gave a jolt of panic, which sent even more pain flooding through her battered body. But she hardly even felt it over the sudden spurt of emotional anguish.

_Ned and Ted. Oh, no, Ned and Ted! What happened to my brothers_?

She had tried to push them out of the way of the falling rubble, but she doubted she had shoved them far enough to save them. How badly were they hurt?

_They're only hurt, aren't they? Nothing worse than that. I mean, they couldn't be_…

She couldn't force herself to think the horrible four-letter word. No, no, her brothers had to be all right. Ted and Ned were both perfectly all right. Healthy and whole. In fact, the doctors would probably let them into the hospital room in just a minute to let them see her….

When the high white door swung open, Sinead's heart gave a leap of joy. She couldn't wait to see her brothers' anxious, freckled faces as they lit up in identical smiles when they saw that she was all right.

But no. The new arrival was only a short, hook-nosed man in a pristine lab coat: the doctor. There was no one following him in.

"Ah, Miss Starling," said the man—Dr. O'Malley, his nametag read—as his eyes swept over her heavily bandaged form. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Where are my brothers?" Sinead burst out. She was unable to keep the note of raw fear out of her weak voice.

O'Malley's dark eyes seemed to darken ever further. "They… They're in intensive care."

"They're what?" she said. The heart monitor at her side began to beep rapidly.

"Calm down, Sinead. There is a good chance that they're going to make it through. But…" He trailed off, eyeing her skeptically. As if he wasn't sure she could handle the news.

"But what?" Sinead demanded. "What's wrong with them?"

"They suffered severe damage."

"What kind of damage?"

"Well… there's a fair chance that they might have… brain damage."

Sinead gasped. In her mind, or in any Ekaterina's mind, that was even worse than being wheelchair-ridden for life, or even losing a limb. "Brain damage?" she echoed numbly.

"Yes. But don't worry—it doesn't seem that their intelligence will be affected."

She breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"However…"

Of course there was a "however." In the world of a Cahill, there was always some sort of catch.

"That doesn't mean that they won't be affected at all. We're… fairly sure that your brother Theodore may end up blind for life."

/

Over the next few days, visitors surged in and out of the room. Doctors and nurses, mostly. Occasionally, Sinead's parents would come in, though she suspected that they spent most of their time in the intensive care unit.

Sinead rarely saw her mother without tears brimming in her red, puffy eyes. Her father was often seen fidgeting anxiously or biting his nails—a habit which he'd sworn to stop. Both of them vowed to resign from active Cahill status immediately. This didn't mean a lot to Sinead; unlike their children, Mr. and Mrs. Starling had been practically inactive for years, anyway.

The day came when they learned that Ted truly _was _stricken blind, only able to see vague shapes of light and darkness, and Ned was afflicted with horrible, mind-freezing headaches. Upon this revelation, Sinead had to be physically restrained; she was furious. She wanted to go out and find the Cahill orphans and make them pay for what they had done to her poor brothers.

As her parents sank into depression, Sinead sank into a deep, dark sort of loathing. Amy and Dan had set them up to be killed! It was such a Cahill thing to do that it wasn't even remotely funny. Cahills had been lying and cheating and stealing and sabotaging for centuries. And it would never change.

_Well, I'm sick of it_, thought Sinead.

/

As soon as she could move her arms, she was jotting down formulas and diagrams, searching for ways to cure Ted and Ned. But it was difficult. All she could think about was the pain shooting through her fingers and the sheer hopelessness of the situation.

Her mother and father said that Ned and Ted were working on theories from their hospital beds now, too—that is, when Ned wasn't having one of his headaches, when he could write everything out for Ted and himself. But even so, Sinead still felt a bleak weight bearing down on her bandaged shoulders.

Her little brothers (yes, they were just a few minutes younger, but they were little to her) were ruined for life because of those stupid brats. Oh, if she got her hands on those scheming Cahills…

She would, she decided. She _would _pay Amy and Dan back for what they had done to them—somehow, some way. As soon as she could get out of this hospital bed, she would come back to haunt them, like a ghost from their past that they never expected to see in the land of the living again. And she would pay them back for their horrible crime.

Now, as to how she would manage to do it… That was the difficult part.

/

It was nearly a week after Sinead had woken up in the too-bright hospital room that she received a new visitor.

"Sinead," called Dr. O'Malley from the other side of the door, "Your boyfriend's here to see you."

_What? Boyfriend_? Sinead thought, bewildered. _I don't even have a_…

Then, he came in. He was tall, rather good-looking, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a purple dinosaur tattooed on his wrist. He couldn't have been more than nineteen, just a few years older than Sinead. And she was positive that she had never seen him before in her life.

"Boyfriend?" she said dubiously.

The man gave a sheepish laugh. "Yeah, sorry about that. It was the only way they'd let me in to see you—and believe me, I mean it was the _only _way I could get in. Trust me, you're not exactly much to look at in all those bandages, Sparrow."

Sinead felt angry. She _was _much to look at. She'd always been much to look at. But more importantly, what was this stranger doing in her hospital room in the first place?

"It's Starling, not Sparrow. And what do you want?"

He shrugged. "Oh, nothing. I just wanted to see how badly those Cahills had messed you up, that's all."

She raised her eyebrows, suddenly intrigued. "Wait, what? What do you know about the Cahills?"

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Too much."

"Are you a Cahill?" Sinead asked.

He didn't answer her question. "Are you?"

"Well… Yes," she said hesitantly, "I'm an Ekaterina…."

"No, you're not," he said. "You wouldn't _really _still call yourself one of them after they tried to kill you and your brothers, would you, Sparrow?"

Sinead's eyes narrowed. "Starling."

"Right, right: Sinead Starling, girl genius—could have graduated high school at age fourteen if you'd wanted to, great with codes and building gadgets… You're too good to be stuck in a hospital bed, sabotaged by those Cahills."

"Exactl… Wait, who are you supposed to be again?"

"The name's Casper Wyoming."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Like the city?"

"Like the bank robbery that took place in that city," he replied with a proud grin.

"Your parents named you after a bank robbery?"

"_Their _bank robbery." Casper rolled his eyes. "And you're one to talk about funny names, Sinead Starling. I mean, seriously, who names their kid that? That's just ridiculous."

Sinead scoffed. "Yeah, _I'm _ridiculous. Says the guy with Barney tattooed on his arm."

"What?" Casper flushed bright red. "It's not Barney! It's…"

"What did you say you wanted again?"

His face turned serious. "You're mad at those Cahills for what they did to you and your brothers, aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" she said vehemently. She paused. "Why?"

Casper shrugged again. "I don't know. I _was _going to offer to help you pay them back, but seeing how you're so bad off…" He turned toward the door.

"Wait a minute."

He turned back. "What?"

"Pay them back how, Casper?" asked Sinead.

Casper smiled. Then, he reached into his pocket and fished out a small white card. He placed it on the table beside Sinead's hospital bed, and she craned her neck to read it. It was just his name and a phone number.

"I still don't know who you are," she said. "What's to stop me from showing this to my parents and the doctors?"

He just continued to smile. "Nothing. But if you do that, I can't help you get revenge on those Cahills, now, can I?"

And with that, he turned and left the room.

/

Sinead wasn't an idiot. She didn't call the number. Instead, the moment she got her hands on a laptop, she plugged the name into a search engine.

First, she came up with only information about the city. But Sinead was accustomed to long hours of Internet research, and anyway, it felt good to be doing something that was so ordinary—like she was just sitting at home in her favorite chair and doing research, instead of being confined to a bright white hospital room.

Eventually, she came across information on this "Casper" himself… and some of it was quite startling. This man had an expansive criminal record—and was wanted by the FBI.

Upon learning this, Sinead supposed that she should have forgotten all about the man completely, or she ought to have told her parents. She definitely shouldn't have continued to look into him because she was intrigued by his offer: "_get revenge on those Cahills_." She definitely shouldn't have been so tempted.

But she was. It made her feel slightly guilty, but she was sorely tempted. They had set her and her brothers up, badly injured them, tried to _kill_ them.

Anything that Sinead did to them in retaliation would have been completely deserved.

/

Even so, she didn't call Casper Wyoming. He was a wanted criminal. And he seemed to know far too much about her, almost as if he, or someone else, had been watching her for quite some time now. The thought unnerved her.

Three days passed, with Sinead's mind caught in turmoil: Should she? Shouldn't she? _Why _shouldn't she? She should, really, shouldn't she? Should get revenge for poor Ted and Ned's sake, shouldn't she?

On Day Three, a bouquet of peach-colored roses arrived. Sinead didn't know much about flowers, but she whipped out her laptop and quickly learned that the color symbolized "closing the deal, 'let's meet up,' sincerity."

_Well, that's certainly subtle_, she thought with a scoff.

There was an unsigned note attached to the roses. "_So, what do you say? Yes, I'm assuming?_"

She could almost hear a smug tone to these words. It made her angry. Did this mouth-breather honestly think that she couldn't avenge herself and her brothers without the help of a criminal?

She stood up—it still hurt to move so much, but she hardly felt the sting—and laboriously pried open the window at the far corner of the room. Decisively, she flung the flowers out into the open air.

She didn't hear them hit the pavement below. Sinead craned her head out the window and was surprised—and yet not at all, if she were to be perfectly honest—to see the figure of a tall, blonde man standing on the sidewalk below.

She heard Casper curse. "Did you have to throw it so hard?" he said. "There are _thorns _digging into my hands!"

Sinead leaned against the window frame. "Well, then, I guess it's a good thing that you're standing right outside a hospital."

"Touché," said Casper. "So, it's a yes?"

"No!" she called back. "Are you insane? You're a wanted…"

He put a finger swiftly to his lips. "Shut up, Starling. Are you trying to get me in trouble?"

Sinead noted with some satisfaction that he had gotten her surname correct this time. "I should be," she said. "Don't you think I've heard of the phrase 'stranger danger' before?"

"I'm not that much of a stranger," he said. "I know who you are. And obviously, you know who I am now, too. So we can't really be strangers. Now, I'm sort of on a tight schedule here. I need an answer from you."

"I already told you—I don't need any help from someone like you."

"Don't you?" he said, sounding amused. "And who do you typically go to for help—your brothers? Well, I don't think they're in any shape to help you right now."

Sinead's hands clenched around the window frame. "Get lost before I decide to call the police."

Casper just crossed his arms and fixed her with a wise sort of smirk. "You could do that, of course. But why would you? I know things. Cahill things."

"Such as?" Sinead prompted. Her fingers drummed impatient rhythms on the frame.

"Things," he replied.

She glowered. "You're wasting my time, Wyoming. If you don't tell me something that is actually pertinent within the next five seconds, I'm calling the cops. Five… Four…"

Down below, Casper was still grinning puckishly. At "three," he actually joined in the countdown. "Three… Two… One. Well? I don't see you dialing any numbers."

"What sort of Cahill things?" Sinead prodded.

"Why should I tell you?" he said. "You already gave me your answer, and it wasn't the one I wanted to hear. I don't owe you anything, Sinead Starling."

"I…" Sinead faltered for a moment. "I revoke my 'no.' I'm not agreeing to anything; I'm just going to hear you out. So? What Cahill things?"

"That's more like it," said Casper. "Let me see: I know about what really happened at the Franklin Institute."

The mere name sent a shudder down Sinead's spine. "What are you talking about?" she said, trying to display a level of bravado that she didn't truly possess. "Were you there?"

He shrugged. "I know things. So, the bomb?"

She shivered again and prayed that this sociopathic, Barney-tattooed criminal wouldn't notice. "I know all about that bomb. Amy and Dan set us up. You know who Amy and Dan are?"

"I know things," Casper said again. "But I can tell you this: they weren't working alone. There were plenty of others in on it, too."

"What?" She couldn't help it. The gasped syllable was out of her mouth in all of its transparently horrified indignity before she could suppress it.

"That's right. They all worked together to set you up. All of those dirty Cahills. And yet you still call yourself one of them, don't you?"

She hesitated for just a moment too long. "Well… Yeah…"

Her long pause made him smile. "Really? Somehow, I don't see that lasting much longer."

"What do you keep talking about?" Sinead asked. "Why do you want to help me? Is it… just because you dislike the Cahills?"

"Oh, it goes beyond 'dislike.' We hate them."

Sinead was quick to catch onto the plural pronoun. "We?" she said. "Who is this 'we?' So, you aren't working alone? Have you been sending people to spy on me? What are you…?"

Casper gave a harsh bark of a laugh. "You ask too many questions. How do you expect me to answer you anything when you keep rapid-firing more at me?"

A knock sounded on the door behind Sinead, and she glanced away from the window, over her shoulder. "Sinead?" It was the doctor's voice. "Who are you talking to?"

She didn't answer. "Casper, the doctor's coming."

"Understood. I guess we'll have to have this conversation at a later date."

Dr. O'Malley stepped into the room. "What are you doing out of bed? You could hurt yourself. What are you doing at that window?" He came to stand next to Sinead. "What is he doing down there?"

Casper managed a sheepish, yet seemingly casual wave. "What's up, doc? Sorry, I just wanted to pay my girlfriend a visit, but your staff wouldn't let me in with these flowers. Said they were 'allergenic,' or something stupid like that." He grinned at Sinead. "Anyway, just think on what I said, okay? And give me a call sometime, will you? I really want to talk."

And with that, he was gone.

"Your boyfriend?" asked Dr. O'Malley, shaking his head. "Strange young man. Shouting up here from the street—honestly."

Sinead hardly heard him, either as he spoke or as he turned and left the room. _All right, so I'll admit, this Casper is certainly persistent. I'll give him that. And… he presents a valid point. Why _shouldn't _I get revenge on the people who tried to kill us? Why shouldn't I have the right to hate the Cahills for what they did to us? Whatever he's suggesting that I do to get revenge on them, it's completely warranted. And whoever he was talking about—this "we"—if they hate the Cahills, then that's good enough for me_.

She remembered how they left her in darkness. And slowly, she picked up the phone and reached for Casper's card.

**Author's Note: So, that's it. Again, I know this idea has been overdone a lot, but remember that I started this before anyone else had posted any of their Vesper!Sinead stories yet. (Also, back then, I thought the idea of Casper/Sinead was a crackship only I'd come up with, as well. Apparently, it's not just me, but oh, well...)**

**Point is, hope you enjoyed, and please review~! :)**

**~Lily**


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